


Sins of the Father (Daddy Issues Remix)

by Gerec



Series: Remixes [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Anal Sex, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles doesn't know what he wants from Logan. Until he does.</p><p>Follows immediately after 'Daddy Issues', where Charles is Logan's biological son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins of the Father (Daddy Issues Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lachatblanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Daddy Issues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226307) by [lachatblanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche). 
  * In response to a prompt by [lachatblanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche) in the [xmen_remix_madness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2015) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Safe work, if any (limit 1): Lehnsherr MD (I may want to continue with this in the future)  
> Previous remixes, if any: N/a  
> I am okay with my non-XMFC/DoFP X-Men works being remixed: yes  
> I am okay with my collaborations being remixed: yes  
> I am okay with being remixed in a different medium (fic for art or art for fic): yes

“Sure, I got a spare room.”

He should feel a little guilty he thinks, as he watches the subtle flicker of emotions cross Logan’s face, doubt and common sense warring with a desire too unsettling to acknowledge. Charles is frankly a little surprised at how quickly Logan capitulated to his request, letting his rather obvious manipulation go both unvoiced and unchallenged.

Then again, maybe it’s not all _that_ surprising, given Logan’s obvious interest from the first moment Charles walked through the door.

He follows – his _father_ , his mind supplies unhelpfully – outside, turning over the events of the evening as Logan walks over to a motorcycle parked just outside the bar. Charles isn’t sure what he really wants from the man now that he’s met him; knows only that he doesn’t want their brief encounter tonight to come to such an early end.

“I don’t have a helmet for you,” Logan mutters, as he climbs onto the back of a Harley that looks years older than Charles. “So don’t fall off.”

He snorts, and Logan looks amused despite himself, arching an eyebrow at him as Charles swings behind him onto the seat. It’s not the first time he’s ridden a motorcycle, and though he’s by no means an expert, he’s done it enough to know how to be a decent passenger. He braces his hands on either side of Logan’s waist as the engine thrums to life, and presses his chest tight against the man’s back when they pull away from the curb with a sputtering roar.

It takes a bit longer to get to Logan’s apartment than he expected, though Charles doesn’t really mind; he’s enjoying the rush of adrenaline and the vibrating rumble as they speed along the busy streets, almost as much as he likes touching the man’s rock hard abs. He stifles a chuckle at the thought of what else he’d like to feel with his hands (and between his thighs), rubbing a little closer than strictly necessary when Logan takes an unexpectedly sharp turn.

They pull up to a dilapidated building a few minutes later, in a rather rough looking neighbourhood almost half way across town. He spares a quick thought for the king sized bed and the rain shower head waiting in his hotel room and sighs; hopefully he won’t regret his impulse to lie about needing a place to stay.

Logan turns the engine off and waits patiently for Charles to dismount, before parking the bike and pocketing his keys. He turns and heads to the front door without a word, not bothering to give it – or Charles – more than a quick glance.

“Aren’t you worried someone’s going to steal it?” he asks, following behind Logan as he heads inside, stomping his way up the narrow stairs to the second floor.

“Nobody’s gonna steal it,” Logan answers, giving him a wry look over his shoulder. “Not if they know what’s good for ‘em.”

That’s all Logan has to say about the bike, long strides taking him to the door at the far end of the hall. He turns the key in the lock and shoves the door open, before shuffling in after Charles and slamming it behind them with a grunt.

“Here we are, home sweet home.”

The place is _tiny_ , and run-down, not much more than a room with a double bed against one wall and a sink and stove on the other. There’s a bar fridge too and a table with one chair, and a bathroom the size of Charles’ hotel room closet.

“Well,” he says, mustering up a fake smile that doesn’t fool either of them for a second, “this is…cozy.”

“Uh huh,” the man says, looking far too pleased with Charles’ reaction. “Sure you still need a place to stay tonight?”

He takes the question for the challenge it is, and grins widely as he toes his shoes off and flops backwards onto the bed. “Oh I do,” he teases, running his hand across the lumpy mattress with a smirk. “Comfy.”

Logan’s eyes track the movement along the sheets and then up his arm, following the line upwards until he’s staring fixedly at Charles’ face. Surprisingly, he finds his skin start to flush under the scrutiny, the intensity of Logan’s gaze making him feel like a butterfly pinned under glass.

Pushing through the unsettling sensation forming in his gut he smirks, waggling his eyebrows at the man lounging casually against the wall. “See something you like?”

Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, Charles’ words drawing a physical response if not an actual admission. Not for the first time tonight he thinks, it might have been a mistake telling Logan the truth about their connection.

They would most definitely be fucking already, if he hadn’t decided to come clean.

If there’s attraction and arousal there’s also a simmering anger, something Charles knows is not an uncommon state for the man standing in front of him. He finds himself drawn helplessly into the myriad flashes of disquiet in Logan’s mind, and the subtle shifts of emotion reflected in the way his body moves.

Charles is endlessly fascinated, and hopelessly addicted already.

“What do you want, kid?” the rough voice asks, low but clear with intent. “You can feel free to cut the bullshit with me anytime.”

He shrugs. “What if I told you that I don’t know?”

“Then I’d say you’ve got a lot of nerve coming all this way on a whim, disrupting my life for nothing more than your own amusement. Are you always such an arrogant little prick?”

The insult digs more than it should, and he takes great care to make his response sound mild and unruffled. “Don’t forget incredibly handsome, and brilliant. And _great_ in the sack.”

That gets a snort out of Logan, the message _‘you’re such an asshole’_ loud and clear, even without using his telepathy. But he doesn’t read any actual hostility over their current ‘predicament’, Logan’s fascination and curiosity as sharp and powerful as his own.

“I’m going to bed,” Logan says suddenly, pushing away from the wall and into the tiny bathroom, leaving Charles confused at the non-sequitur. When he comes out again, just a few minutes later he is shirtless, the heavily sculpted muscles on his chest and arms even more enticing in the flesh.

Charles finds himself with the sudden and maddening urge to lick all of that deliciously bared skin.

“What about me?”

“What _about_ you?” Logan says, forcing Charles to shift over when he drops onto the bed, pulling his boots off and tossing them carelessly with a grunt. “You can sleep on the floor or you can share the bed with me. Your choice.”

Somehow, he manages to make the statement sound both like an invitation and a warning, and Charles chuckles quietly as Logan lays himself down on top of the sheets, glaring as though the ceiling offended him for appearing above his head. That inner conflict appeals to the scientist in him more than it should, making Charles want nothing more than to see just how far he can _push_.

He rolls up and onto his knees, making a show of pulling his jacket off slowly as Logan pretends to ignore him. Charles could _almost_ mistake Logan’s non reaction for cool disinterest, if not for the quick rise and fall of the man’s chest, and the way his mind is practically _screaming,_ as eager to throw Charles out onto the street as he is to roll over and fuck him into the bed.

His belt is gone and his shirt half unbuttoned, when Logan suddenly turns to look at him, and asks, “Your family, are they all…” _Dead_ , he doesn’t quite finish.

Charles leans back against the wall, and sighs, his pseudo seduction all but forgotten at Logan’s first genuine show of interest in his life. “My father died when I was still quite young. My mother remarried…let’s just say the less said about Kurt the better. Sharon died some years ago and Kurt and his son are no longer in my life. So yeah, there’s nobody.”

He can’t quite bring himself to share anything about the others also gone from his life, the pain still too raw at being abandoned by the ones he loved most.

“Sorry,” Logan murmurs. “Not everyone handles it well; no family, being alone. I get it. Is that why you came looking for me?” He looks contrite, and far too understanding, and suddenly Charles is _furious_ at the thought of some stranger pretending to _know_ , reducing him to the cliché of some lost little boy looking for love and acceptance.

“I came because I wanted to see with my own eyes,” he snarls, all the buried anger and self-loathing erupting violently to the surface. “I wanted to know if there was an _explanation_ for why I’m this pathetic, drunken mess! Whether I came by it naturally from Sharon or from the both of you! Whether they left because I was born an asshole just like _you_ , or if it’s really all _me_ that I’m so fucking easy to forget!”

Charles flings himself off the bed, reaching to snatch his belt and jacket off the floor. It was a mistake coming here, and a mistake thinking that meeting this man could give him any real answers.

Or any kind of closure.

“Hey.” Logan’s grip on his arm is tight, and though he tries, Charles can’t shake him loose. “I don’t know what just happened here, but I guarantee you’re not someone that’s easy to forget.”

“Is that so,” he snaps, shoving the man backwards until he’s pressed against the wall. Logan still hasn’t let go of Charles’ arm, forcing him to step closer and look up in order to sneer into his face. “Would you really have remembered me? If I was just some guy you picked up at the bar tonight and fucked? Would you have remembered my name, Logan? For how long? A couple of days? A few hours? Fuck you! I don’t need your lies, and I sure as hell don’t want your pi--.”

His words are cut off by a bruising kiss, Logan breathing him in as he wraps his arm around Charles’ waist and spins them around, slamming his back against the wall. It’s hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, sharpening the surge of arousal to his already hard prick and making him groan against Logan’s lips. He clutches onto naked skin and the dark curls on Logan’s chest, and savors the taste of him as he sweeps his tongue inside Charles’ mouth.  

 _I would have remembered_ Logan insists, and Charles arches against him, pressing close until there’s not an inch of space left between their two bodies. Logan growls and bites at his bottom lip, his hand moving to grasp Charles’ ass and half lift him off of his feet. _I would have remembered you, the way you tasted, my lips on you, your eyes so fucking blue and the way you moan when I fucked you, so tight, so good…_

He lets the honesty wash over him, Logan pushing his thoughts at him as hard as he’s rubbing his erection against Charles’ hip. Their twinned lust is like water rushing through a broken dam, too late to do anything but get swept away by the tide.

“I lied, before, at the bar,” he pants, hands coming up to grip Logan’s face, kissing him like he can’t breathe, and the man is oxygen. “I’m a telepath. There _are_ no lines.”

Logan’s answer is to yank his shirt over his head with a growl, biting down hard on the spot just below his ear. He hisses, even as Logan gentles the burn with a sweep of his tongue, reaching to unbutton Logan’s jeans so he can take the man’s thick cock in his hands.

 _God…fuck yeah that’s good…wanted…when I saw…your hands…and your ass…take you…_ use _you…scream my name…_

Charles shudders at the onslaught of images and emotions, already close to coming just from the desperate hunger pouring from Logan’s mind. Somehow, the man strips him out of pants and underwear with no more than a few quick tugs, and then he’s on his knees and gripping Charles’ bare ass, taking the entirety of his cock down his throat.

 _Whatever you want,_ Logan sends, moving steadily back and forth, letting Charles grab his hair and fuck his mouth with wild abandon. _Whatever you need. I’ll give it to you._

He laughs, and it sounds high pitched and a little crazed to his own ears. _This…I want_ this _, from the moment I saw you, in the bar. I said…but it’s…I want to_ know _you…in every way._

And then he comes, just like that, propped against the wall with Logan’s hand pulling him in, so fucking close he’s spurting right down the man’s throat with a muffled groan. His legs buckle and he almost pitches forward, dangerously close to collapsing if not for strong arms holding him steady.

Logan pulls away from him with a soft wet pop, tongue darting out to lick his lips as Charles struggles to catch his breath. After a few moments he sends Logan a slight nudge to grab his jacket off the floor, directing him to pull out a condom and packet of lube from the inside pocket. The man obliges without a word, hot eyes never leaving Charles’ face, and then he’s being thrown naked – and ass up - over Logan’s shoulder, and tossed carelessly onto the bed with a growl.

He ends up bouncing lightly on the mattress, but settles easily into a lazy sprawl as Logan strips quickly and methodically out of his jeans. Charles moans – he’s forgotten that the man’s _not wearing any underwear_ – and rakes his eyes unashamedly over that exceptionally fine chest and the ripples of muscle all over a perfect, sculpted body.

“See something you like?” Logan says, repeating Charles’ earlier taunt with a little smirk of his own. He returns the look with a genuine smile and watches as the expression on Logan’s face changes minutely, shifting into something softer, though no less heated. Charles ignores the way his gut twinges in response, and crawls forward instead, until he’s close enough to wrap his own lips around Logan’s cock.

He lets himself sink into Logan’s mind, thrilled at the ease with which he fits around the man’s consciousness, sensing no hesitation nor any fear. Charles dives in and holds on tight, watching through Logan’s eyes as red lips wrap around that thick shaft, tongue laving the entire length of it with gusto.

He feels the intent, even before Logan moves, and pulls off gently as the other man pushes him onto his back. Logan crawls between his legs and pushes his thighs apart with calloused hands, and then brushes a thumb lightly across his entrance, making Charles press down and groan.

 _Beautiful_ , Logan thinks, eyes drinking him in as he spreads Charles wide. He rips open the packet of lube and slicks his fingers, pressing a thumb slowly inside Charles with a chuckle and then a pleased hum.

It feels _exquisite_ , the fullness and the burn, and short, guttural moans fall from his lips with every deep and relentless thrust. Logan seems to have the patience of a saint, Charles notes between shaky breaths, seemingly content to fuck him with two, then with three, long and rough fingers. Desire hangs like a taut string linking them together, bearing witness to Charles’ undoing as he writhes and bucks.

By the time Logan pushes in, the need has become almost unbearable, every impressive inch too much and yet not nearly enough. He nudges Logan to go faster, and harder, to sink in to the root and fuck him deep but the man only grins and shakes his head. And then there is nothing but slow, delicious glide and unrestrained pleasure; of being pinned and fucked and stuffed so full that he can’t tell where one of them begins and the other one ends.

“Charles,” Logan whispers, his mouth hot, peppering kisses and bite marks all over his skin. “Charles, fuck, you feel so good.”

And it _is_ good – so much better than good, Charles thinks – their physical connection made all the more intense and thrilling for being deemed taboo. But he can’t think of a single reason not to enjoy every moment of this to the max; revels in the aching bliss of Logan’s cock, filling and claiming and pushing him towards the edge. Logan ruts into him now at a frenzied pace, no longer holding back from driving into Charles with deep, forceful thrusts, his entire body straining with an almost desperate need to come.

It takes no more than a few strokes from Logan’s hand before Charles stiffens, spurting all over his own stomach with a gasp. Logan fucks him through it without gentling his thrusts, his movements growing ever more erratic with every tight clench around his shaft. He chases his release with a seemingly insatiable stamina, slamming his hips until Charles swears he’s being split in two, and buries his face in Charles’ neck, grunting loudly and gustily when he comes.

\---

“Why did you come here,” Logan asks again, his arms wrapped around Charles as they lay side by side on the bed.

Charles shifts from where he’s lying on Logan’s chest to press a kiss to his cheek, and thinks about his answer carefully, before he says, “I wanted to know you, and to know who I am; where I come from. Maybe I wanted to be connected to someone again, and you’re the only one that’s left.”

“Hmm,” Logan murmurs, squeezing him close. “Did you get what you wanted?”

“I don’t know.”

Charles can feel the tension slowly seeping back into Logan’s body, as the haze of their love making begins to fade. He doesn’t have to read it to know that the stilted awkwardness in Logan’s voice is part guilt and part regret, and a growing determination to not let _this_ happen again.

“So what now?”

“I could erase it from your memory, if you want,” he proposes, tone deceptively light. It hurts to think that Logan might actually take him up on his offer; would rather deny his very existence and just _forget._

Logan sighs. “Nah. This still happened, whether I remember it or not. I’m still…responsible.”

 _Guilty_ is the word Logan says in his head.

“My mother is dead. No one in the world knows that we’re connected in any way except for you and me, and I don’t plan on sharing it with anyone else. Ever. This doesn’t have to be complicated, Logan. It can just…be what it is.”

“And what’s that?” Logan asks, curiosity making him shift and turn until they're face to face.

“An accident. A quirk of fate. A random and statistically improbable occurrence of no biological importance or consequence. Not to us."

Logan barks a laugh, scrubbing his face with both of his hands. “Is that right? Sure you’re not just trying to justify it with some fancy words?”

Charles grins. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m telling you what I really believe. It doesn’t matter to me _how_ we’re connected, only that we are, in some real way.”

Logan is silent for a long time, before he continues, “And you don’t think…that what we did.…” He shakes his head. “It’s just not right, kid.”

With a sigh, Charles pushes himself up and out of the bed, gathering his clothes off the floor as Logan frowns. “What are you doing?”

“Going back to my hotel,” he says, and Logan doesn’t seem even a little surprised by his admission. “You clearly think that this was a mistake, and I…well, it hardly matters what I think, does it?”

“Charles, that’s not…I didn’t say—”

“Logan,” he interrupts, shrugging on his shirt and zipping his pants as Logan looks on. “As a telepath, I can tell you quite definitively that there are way worse things in this world than what the two of us did in this bed. You know I’m right – you’re seeing a problem where none exist.”

He drops onto the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and shoes, before reaching into his pocket for his business card. “Here,” Charles says, pushing it into Logan’s hand with a little more force than strictly necessary. “You can reach me here, if you want to see me again. We can be friends, or not, it’s up to you.”

“Charles, you don’t have to leave. It’s late, you can—”

The walls in the tiny apartment suddenly feel like they’re closing in, and he wants nothing more than to get out and away; away from this man he let in way too quickly, and much too deep. He grabs his jacket off the floor and plasters an easy smile on his face, turning to give Logan a quick peck on the lips.

“Goodbye, Logan. It was nice to meet you.”

“Charles--”

If he says anything else Charles doesn’t hear it, practically sprinting out the door and down the stairs, and into the quiet of the late night. He walks and walks and he doesn’t look back, determined to get away from one Logan Howlett, as fast - and as far - as his feet are willing to take him.


End file.
